Queen in waiting

The Fateful Christening

It was once more summer at Hampton Court. But how different was this summer from the last! There was common talk now of the Prince's Party and the King's Party and it was well known, not only at Court, but throughout the country that the King and his son were enemies.

The only way in which peace was maintained was by seeing that the Prince and the King were kept out of each other's way, and as they had no wish to see each other this was not difficult. The King declared himself most dissatisfied with his son; the Prince made no secret of the fact that he hated his father.

Caroline alone kept up a pretence that all was well; and however vehemently she expressed her dislike of her father-in-law in private, she always behaved with the utmost respect in public.

They had moved to Hampton Court for the summer; the King was not as displeased to be back in England now as he had been in the winter, for he had promised himself another trip to Hanover in the not too distant future while he resigned himself to the fact that as King of England he must spend some of his time in that country.

And at Hampton Court the King made an attempt to gain a little popularity, since his son had acquired a great deal during his absence. It was not easy for George, but he did try; he allowed conversation at the dinner table in which he sometimes joined, speaking French for he still made no effort whatsoever to speak English. He would sometimes sit in the pavilion and watch the bowl players, or take a turn at the cards; he often listened to music; he liked to take supper alone with Ermengarda, who was now the Duchess of Kendal, making sure that they retired early to what he called "a seasonable bedtime".

Caroline was pleased that they were at Hampton. She was once more pregnant and this time was determined to take more care of herself. She longed for a son; and the very root of her resentment against the King was the fact that he would not allow Fritzchen to come to England.

The Whig Ministry had been reformed with Stanhope and Sunderland at its head. Sunderland however, had become a great favourite of the King's for two reasons. One was his intense dislike of the Prince of Wales; and the other that he had become fast friends with the Duchess of Kendal, whose long association with the King had made her as a wife to him, and also with Bernstorff who was the King's chief adviser. Even Stanhope, brilliant master of foreign affairs that he was—and the King appreciated his worth—could not compete with that. As for Townsend, although he had lost his office, he was, with Walpole, still of some importance; yet, to the chagrin of Caroline and the Prince, since the return of the King, the friendship towards them and these two men had waned considerably. They seemed as though instead of being the support they had promised to be, they merely wanted to remain on good terms, ready for the day when the Prince would be in power.

Still, there were Whigs who were very dissatisfied with the reigning ministry and these formed the nucleus of the Prince's party.

There was one man whom the Prince and Caroline disliked and distrusted more than any other and that was the Duke of Newcastle. The Duke had shown his contempt for the Prince and stood firmly against him. That was something George Augustus and Caroline found hard to forgive.

But there was fortunately no obligation to see much of the man. In fact, because of her pregnancy, and moreover because of the last confinement which had ended so disastrously, Caroline made every excuse to live quietly in her own apartments.

This she did, and it was pleasant to have her little girls with her. They had become devoted to her now that they could be so much together, but she was rather alarmed to notice that Anne was aware of certain follies in her father. She had seen the child watching him when he betrayed his vanity, or quick temper, or some lack of perception. If Anne became critical of her father she would have to correct that. She shuddered to think of having her children in conflict with their parents. Anne was old enough to know of course, of the strife between her father and grandfather. On no account must that be repeated.

So with the family together and the excitement of intrigues with those politicians who, even though the King had returned, remained faithful to the Prince, life was far from tedious. Although at times when Caroline was made aware of the choleric temper of her husband and the soured vindictive-ness of his father she did feel as though she were sitting on gunpowder.

There was storm in the sultry air all that summer when everyone was comparing it with that of the previous year.

And in October Caroline and the Prince returned to St. James's to be ready for Caroline's lying-in.

Exactly a year after the disaster when she had lost her child and almost her own life through her prudery in not allowing Sir David Hamilton to attend her, Caroline gave birth to a son.

She was delighted, but not more so than the Prince. He came to her, his face pink with emotion as he knelt by her bed and kissed her hands.

"My tear, my tear, this the happiest day ... Now you vill not miss little Fritzchen so much, eh?"

"Wunderbar . .. vunderbar!" whispered Caroline.

"And vere is this little fellow?"

He was brought and placed in the Prince's arms.

Caroline watched her husband awkwardly nursing the child.

"He is goot ... he seems goot. Vere are my daughters. Send my daughters here. They must their bruder meet."

Caroline lay back on her pillows watching them; the three little girls; her husband and the new child.

"There! Is he not von fine little fellow?" The Prince was strutting round the apartment. "See how happy he is to be in his father's arms."

Anne was watching a trifle scornfully.

Amelia said: "Is it not Mamma's baby too?"

"Ha! " laughed the Prince. "It is Mamma's baby too."

"Perhaps," said Anne coolly, "she would like to hold it now."

"Ha! ha! " laughed her father. Caroline held her breath. He did not see the criticism. He would not have thought it possible that his daughters could be critical of him.

It must not grow, thought Caroline.

"Your father is very happy now," she said. "He was anxious for me and now it is goot that all is veil."

Little Caroline was standing by the bed, clinging to her mother's hand, fearful that the coming of the new child might lose her her mother's attention, wondering what it would be like now that she was no longer the baby.

The Prince had laid the child in her arms and the little girls came round her to look closely at him.

"Do you think he is like his Papa, eh?" demanded the Prince.

"No," replied Anne. "I think he is more like Mamma. I like him."

The Prince rocked on his heels, well pleased with his happy family.

When the little girls had gone he said: "I'll swear my father is envious of us."

"This quarrel does little good," replied Caroline. "Ve should try to mend it ... if only outwardly."

"Oh, he is von old scoundrel."

"I know, but he is the King; and he can make things very unpleasant for you."

"Let him try."

Caroline sighed. Then she said: "I should like to call the child Lewis."

"Lewis..." repeated the Prince. "Oh but it's his name."

"Perhaps you vould agree that he might be pleased to have the child named after him."

"Vy should ve please him?"

"Because after all he is the King. Ve lose by this quarrel."

The Prince was thoughtful. "And you vish, my love, that this should be the boy's name?"

"Yes. I vish it."

"Then it shall be Lewis."

"And I should like your sister to be sponsor."

"My sister! You think she would come from Prussia?"

Caroline thought of Sophia Dorothea from whom she heard now and then, living her stormy life with Frederick William who was now King of Prussia. They quarrelled violently and incessantly but there was a bond between them which, in spite of this, held them together. It would be a great joy to see her sister-in-law again and recall those days at Hanover.

"But perhaps she vould send a proxy."

The Prince nodded. It seemed fitting that his sister should be sponsor to his child; he had always been fond of her since those days when they had lost their mother and gradually became aware of the tragic circumstances of her disappearance.

"Ve should ask her," he said.

"And beside her perhaps your uncle the Duke of Osnabruck and York."

"Vat I He whom my father threatened to make Regent ven he vent avay!"

"It vould please your father."

"I do not vish to please that old scoundrel."

"Outwardly..." she said with a smile.

The Prince began to smile and his eyes lit up with mischief.

"Yes," he said, "this is not a bad idea. Ve vill please him in this..."

"Show the people that ve do our best to end the family quarrels."

"A goot idea," replied the Prince, every moment becoming certain that he had thought of it.

The King came to St. James's to see his grandson. Caroline received him in bed and he was gracious to her.

A fine woman, he thought, looking at her lying back on her pillows, her hair simply dressed, a curl over either shoulder. Too clever for a woman though. Bernstorff had discovered it; so had Bothmer and Robethon. They must watch this one.

"It is good of Your Majesty to come," she said meekly enough but he didn't trust her meekness. She was the guiding hand in this partnership against him. George Augustus was a fool who allowed his wife to lead him by the nose; and a bigger fool because he didn't know it.

"I come to see my grandson," he retorted with characteristic tactlessness.

The Prince came into the apartment. Uneasily Caroline watched the two regard each other. The Prince bowed; the King nodded and quickly turned back to the bed.

"Your Majesty will wish to see the boy," said Caroline, and signed to one of the attendants to have the child brought to the King.

The nurse came and stood before George, holding the child in her arms. The King looked down into the little face and grunted.

"The Prince and I have decided to call him Lewis," said Caroline, and waited for the sign of pleasure in the grim old face.

Instead the lips tightened; and there was no show of pleasure.

Thinking it was because he was trying to hide his pleasure she hurried on: "And as sponsors we have chosen the Queen of Prussia and the Duke of Osnabruck and York."

The King was silent for a moment. Then he said: "His name shall be George William and I shall let you know who his sponsors will be."

With that he gave her a curt nod and without another look at his son strode out of the apartment.

The Prince was furious. There before his attendants, the nurse and some of the bedchamber women he took off his wig and kicked it over the bed.

"He is von old scoundrel. Whose son is this? Is it mine or is it his? I tell you his name is Lewis. I vill not have his sponsors "

With a nod Caroline signed to Henrietta Howard to pick up the wig and present it to the Prince.

This she did; he took it ungraciously and slammed it on his head. It was awry, and his face purple with rage looked almost comic beneath it. Caroline believed that Molly Lepel and Sophie Howe were having great difficulties in suppressing their giggles.

"You may leave us," said Caroline to all present.

And when they were alone she set herself the difficult task of persuading the Prince that they would have to fall in with the King's wishes because he had the power to make them. They must be patient, remembering that it would not always be so.

Caroline was in bed for the christening. She was both angry and apprehensive. The King had shown his animosity not only by forcing them to have the name of his choice but by selecting for one of the sponsors the Duke of Newcastle whom he knew —and the whole court knew—was a particular enemy of the Prince and Princess of Wales.

She was terrified that George Augustus would be unable to control his rage. If he insulted the King in public the consequences could be disastrous. She dared not warn him of this for it might put the idea into his mind; and his very fearlessness could make him reckless.

When Newcastle came into the apartment she saw the Prince turn his back on him. Newcastle was an extremely ugly man and it was obvious from his demeanour that he knew the Prince deplored his presence, and was amused by this.

The Duchess of St. Albans was co-sponsor with the King and Newcastle. Caroline had no great feeling for or against her, except for the fact that she had not chosen her and she thought that a Prince of the royal house should have had royal sponsors.

How relieved she would be when the ceremony was over! She must try to forget her chagrin, and persuade George Augustus to do the same, for this matter, while extremely irritating and humiliating would not damage their reputation with the people, which was more important than anything. In fact, the people would be indignant on their behalf which might mean it was a good thing after all.

The ceremony was over quickly and the King left immediately. The Prince however was glaring at Newcastle on whose unprepossessing face there was a faint sneer. The Prince had grown scarlet; the veins stood out at his temples and rushing to Newcastle he shook his fist at him shouting in English which was always more imperfect than usual when he was disturbed: "You are von scoundrel. I vill find you."

What the Prince meant to imply was that he would discover what intrigues the Duke was engaged in; but the Duke thought he was trying to say he would fight him; and he gathered that this was a challenge to a duel.

He bowed and hastily left the apartment.

He went at once to his friends Sunderland and Stanhope who listened intently to what he had to say.

They said they would consult the King's minister, Bernstorff, who would know better than anyone else what the King's reaction would be to such blatant indiscretion on the part of the Prince.

The four men talked the matter over.

There would be no duel. The Prince would not be allowed to fight.

Secretly all but Newcastle, when they heard what the Prince had said, realized that it was his imperfect English which had given the wrong impression; but as they were eager to increase the animosity between the King and the Prince they thought it wise to keep to the original construction.

The Prince was a fool, but a fool with a clever wife. Therefore he was a danger. He was their enemy, so if it were possible to incense the King more deeply against him all the better.

"The Prince is clearly a danger to the King's ministers," said Bernstorff. *I will put this matter before him."

To the Prince's apartments came the Dukes of Kent, Roxburgh and Kingston.

"Vat you vant?" demanded the Prince.

"We come on His Majesty's instructions."

"Veil, veil, vat is it?"

"We have to question Your Highness on the challenge you have made to the Duke of Newcastle."

"Challenge? Vat is this challenge?"

"You have challenged him to a duel."

"You are mad."

"The Duke of Newcastle complains that Your Highness has challenged him to a duel. He cannot accept your challenge. In the name of the King "

"In the name of the King vill you get out of here."

"We come to question Your Highness on the King's order."

"I answer not questions ... to the King, that old scoundrel, nor to you. I made no challenge. Newcastle is von liar. Get out or I vill you out throw."

The Dukes retired and went to the King who after listening intently gave the order that the Prince should be placed under arrest.

Throughout the Court and all over London the news of the Prince's arrest was being discussed.

He was shut in his apartments with the Princess and neither of them was allowed to venture out. Even those attendants who had not been in the apartments at the time of the arrest were not permitted to go to their master and mistress.

In the coffee houses there was excited speculation. Sympathy was with the Prince who, when he was Guardian of the Realm, had shown them how much more gay and colourful life would be if he were King. The Princess was popular too, so the people were on their side.

The King was a sour old man; his mistresses were ugly; he rarely smiled; he made no concessions to popularity; he preferred Hanover to England. Let him go back and live on sausages and sauerkraut. He had a wife whom he had kept shut up in a prison for more than twenty years. He was a wicked old ogre. Did he now think to imprison his son as he had his wife!

The people would not allow it.

They wanted to see their Prince and Princess riding through the streets, walking in the parks.

A royal quarrel was exciting only for a while. They would allow no locking up of their Prince and Princess.

Besides the poor lady had just given birth to a boy. What a shock this must be for her, and her still recovering from a difficult confinement!

The people were for the Prince and Princess.

Aghast at what had happened, Caroline tried to plan what they should do for the best.

She knew they had a vindictive man against them. She had lived long enough in the shadow of the Leine Schloss where the ill-fated Sophia Dorothea, the Prince's mother, had learned what could happen to those who offended George Lewis.

Why should he be any more lenient towards a son than a wife?

They must not be foolishly proud. They must act quickly.

She tried to convey her fears to George Augustus, who after his first storms of rage had subsided was prepared to listen to her.

He too remembered the fate of his mother.

Between them they composed a letter to the King which the Prince wrote.

"If I have had the misfortune to offend Your Majesty, contrary to my intention, I crave his pardon and pray him to be persuaded of the respect which I have for him. I will show no more resentment to the Duke of Newcastle "

Caroline read the letter slowly.

"Must I send this to that old scoundrel?" asked the Prince almost tearfully.

"I fear so," she said. "He has great power. Ve must not forget your mother."

They had humbled themselves and the King was glad of that. Not that he intended it to do them any good. He despised and hated his son. He would never forget the day when as a boy he had broken away from a hunting party and tried to rescue his mother. It had been an attempt doomed to failure from the start but the boy had been reckless enough to make it, and it had earned him the admiration and affection of too many people. It had called attention to the vindictive cruelty of his father; and more than that, it had been the beginning of the enmity between them.

The boy had been on the side of his mother, which meant that he was against his father.

George Lewis never forgave, never forgot an insult, or an injury. Sophia Dorothea, still in prison, was a confirmation of that.

He wanted to forget that woman; and her son—who was unfortunately his also—would not let him forget. For instance, there were times when he even looked like her; and he knew she was often in his mind. His son had never forgiven him for what he had done to his mother. Very well, he would have to learn what it meant to have his father for an enemy.

When he read the letter his son had written he laughed scornfully. He knew who was responsible for that. That she-devil. George Augustus would never have had the sense to try to placate him.

Well, Madam, you have failed, said the King; and he put the letter into a candle flame and let it burn.

Stanhope, with several of his ministers, was asking for audience to discuss this unfortunate matter of the Prince. He received them with no change in his usual dour expression.

"Your Majesty we cannot keep the Prince in confinement indefinitely," Stanhope explained. "It is a breach of the Habeas Corpus Act. The Opposition will create a great disturbance if we keep him confined much longer. It could lead to great trouble."

"If I were in Hanover I should know what to do," said the King. "Here in England ... there are different laws. You must explain to me. But one thing I will not have—and I know there is no law to stop this. I will not live under the same roof with the Prince."

Stanhope replied: "Your Majesty is right. There is no law to prevent the Prince having a separate establishment."

"Then I will banish him and the Princess from St. James's Palace."

"The Cabinet would have to approve Your Majesty's decision."

"Then let them approve ... quickly. I will not tolerate him here much longer."

"I will call a meeting of the Cabinet without delay," said Stanhope.

Caroline had risen from her bed, although still weak. The quarrel with the King had not helped in her recovery and she was very anxious as to the outcome. The Prince was more subdued than usual. The days of confinement to his apartments had sobered him considerably. He considered the power of his father and was alarmed as to what the next move would be.

Caroline thought of her daughters in another part of the palace and wondered what stories they were hearing of the differences between their parents and their grandfather. She asked that they might be sent to her, that if they were under arrest the whole family might be together, but was told that the King's orders were that the girls were not to visit their parents.

She was more alarmed than ever when she heard this.

He is capable of any cruelty, she thought. And again she thought of his wife who had been separated from her two young children.

What next? she wondered.

She felt faint and feverish, and this was an additional anxiety for she knew that in this crisis she needed all her wits.

Their sentence came to them, explained in a document which the King had prepared. They were free to go, but they were banished from St. James's.

George Augustus read the document aloud to her.

"Banished! " he said. "Good riddance to him and his miserable court. Ve'll have our own. A fine goot court. He von't like that. Oh no, my old rascal."

"And is that all?" she asked.

"No, there is some more."

She was out of bed and taking the document from his hands. She felt dizzy as she read:

"It is my pleasure that my grandson and granddaughters remain at St. James's where they are. The Princess will be permitted to see them when she has a mind, and the children will be permitted from time to time to go and see her and my son."

Caroline dropped the document and stared at the Prince.

"Do you see vat he is doing?"

"He is sending us avay." The Prince snapped his fingers. "Let him. Ve vill have von fine big court ... better than his. To ours vill come his enemies. He is von big fool."

"He is going to keep the children from us."

"He says you can see them ... from time to time."

"From time to time! My own children. They are going to be taken from us. And the baby He is so young. He needs his mother."

"You are distressed, my tear. That old scoundrel ... his is von vicked old devil... but ve vill outvit him yet."

"My children," murmured Caroline. "My little baby. Don't you see. This is his punishment to us! He is going to rob us of our children?"

He could not share her grief. He was planning ahead. He would have his court and the Prince's Court would be a rival to the King's. It would be no different from before, except that the people would be sorry for him; they would be on his side. The old devil had not been so clever after all.

But Caroline was heartbroken. This was the cruellest blow he could have inflicted. Perhaps he knew it and that was why he had planned it. He was going to separate her from her children.

There was no time for grief. They were expected to leave on receipt of the King's order.

"Where to?" asked Caroline in bewilderment.

No one knew. All that mattered was that they left St. James's without delay. It was the King's wish that they did not spend another night under the same roof as himself.

Caroline called for Henrietta.

"Tell all the women to make ready. We are going at once."

"Where, Your Highness?"

"That I cannot say. All I can tell you is that we are leaving St. James's."

"And the children?" asked Henrietta.

"They are to remain," replied Caroline, bitterly, "on the King's orders."

"But..."

"I can tell you no more," replied Caroline. "We are to leave at once."

Mary Bellenden asked leave to give a note to the Prince or Princess. It was Caroline who took it and saw that it was from the Earl of Grantham. He had heard what had happened and wished to place his house in Albermarle Street at their disposal.

"So," said Caroline blankly, "we have somewhere to go."

At the same time the King's messenger had arrived with a note to her from the King.

She read it eagerly hoping that he had had some change of heart with regard to her children.

The King wrote that he understood she had not recovered from her confinement and was not well enough to move at present. He would therefore grant her permission to stay at St. James's with her children providing she made no attempt to communicate with her husband who must leave the palace without delay. Unless she kept this promise she would be banished with her husband while her children remained at St. James's.

Caroline re-read the letter. He was offering her her children or her husband.

Never in her life before had she had such a decision to make.

The Prince came to her. "Vat now?" he asked; and when she showed him the letter, his face grew scarlet with rage.

"He vould try to separate us ... he vould try to tempt a vife from her husband!"

"There are the children."

"You vill them see," he told her. "He does not say you vill not see them. From time to time, he says. But it vill not be for long. Ve vill think of something, my tearest."

And she looked at him and knew that she must choose to be with him. She was necessary to him. What would become of him without her? What would become of them both? He was as one of her children and she dared not desert him now.

She wrote to the King: "Where my husband goes there must I go too."

The maids of honour were packing hastily.

"This is disastrous," said Margaret Meadows. "It is the beginning of real trouble between the King and the Prince."

"We'll have a better time in the Prince's Court than in the King's," commented Sophie Howe. "Of all the dreary places in the world ... St. James's is the most dreary! "

"I wish it were like that summer at Hampton," said Molly Lepel. "That was a glorious time."

Mary Bellenden joined them; she was in high spirits, for where she went John Campbell as gentleman of the Prince's bedchamber would go.

"Are you ready?" she cried. "Then come—over the hills and far away!"

The coach jolted along to Albemarle Street. Already there were little knots of people in the streets to watch the party. The Prince of Wales turned out of the Palace! Who ever heard of such a thing! These Germans had no family feeling. They didn't want Germans here. King Charles had always been jovial and kind to members of his family. It had been a pleasure to see him with his little nieces. And his brother James had doted on Anne and Mary; Anne's love for her only child who lived past his infancy was quite touching. But German George had been really cruel to the poor Princess. Not only had he taken her daughters from her but he had separated her from her newly born baby.

Family bickering was one thing, but to drive a woman from her children, soon after she's risen from childbed was real cruelty.

"Damn George," said the people. "Damn the German. And God bless the Prince and Princess of Wales."

In Grantham House the Princess was in a state of collapse. Her women got her quickly to bed and feared that she would not recover.

The Prince sat beside her bed covering his face with his hands and crying quietly.

Rumours that the Prince and Princess were ill circulated in the streets and little knots of people stood outside Grantham's house waiting for news of them while in St. James's the King gave orders that any foreign ambassadors who visited the Prince would not be received at his Court.

And now, he said, that the troublesome Prince is no longer with us let us enjoy some peace.

A new drama soon arose. The newly born child, deprived of its mother, became ill. The nurses whom the King had commanded to care for the little boy at first assured themselves that this was nothing but a normal childish ailment, but as the child grew more wan and fretful they could no longer deceive themselves and sent for the physicians, who, when they saw the child, decided that the King should be informed, without delay, of its condition.

"Well," said George gruffly, "what do you recommend?"

"That Your Majesty should send at once for the child's mother."

"That's impossible," snapped the King.

"We fear, sir, that if you do not the child will die."

"Nonsense. What can she do that you can't? Are you doctors or not?"

"In our opinion, Your Majesty, the child is pining for his mother."

George looked at them suspiciously. He was inclined to suspect them of working for the Prince.

"She is forbidden to come to the palace, so she must stay away."

And with that he dismissed the doctors.

But the people were too interested in the family quarrel not to have discovered what was happening in the Palace, and when it became known that the newly born child was ill and not allowed to see its mother, the crowds grew angry.

"Keep a babe from its mother I" they cried. "What sort of a monster is this we've got as a King."

Stanhope came to see George.

"If the child dies. Your Majesty, and his mother is not allowed to see him, there might be riots. These people are sentimental about children."

George was thoughtful.

"The Princess may come, but not the Prince."

"I will send a message to her immediately," replied Stanhope.

When Caroline received the message she immediately prepared to leave Albermarle Street for St. James's. The people crowded the streets to see her pass and shout their good wishes.

She smiled wanly; and when they saw how ill she looked and how sad they shouted: "God bless you. And down with the unnatural German monster."

Caroline felt comforted and wondered whether she would be allowed to stay at St. James's and nurse her baby; and whether she would have a chance of seeing her daughters.

On reaching the Palace she was hurriedly taken to an apartment which had been prepared for her and when she saw her child she was overcome with grief for she realized how ill he was. He was suffering from fever and his cough was so incessant that she was afraid she had come too late.

She took him from his nurses and said she would have charge of him now, and all through the night she sat with him and although he continued to cough and his fever was as high as ever, she fancied he knew her and was comforted.

The child was sleeping in his cradle. He looked very ill, but at least he slept. Caroline kept her place at his cradle, rocking it gently to and fro and turning over in her mind whether she might not plead with the King at least to allow her to have care of this child.

Henrietta, whom she had brought with her, came silently into the room and said that the little girls were outside and longing to see their mother.

"Oh Henrietta, bring them in to me! "

The door was flung open and the girls ran in to throw themselves into their mother's arms.

"Anne ... my dear ... and Amelia ... and where's my baby Caroline?"

"Here, Mamma! Here!"

"Oh, my darlings! "

She was weeping; and they had never seen her weep before. They would not have thought their stately, wise Mamma capable of tears. And because she was crying for them that made them sad and happy at the same time; and very soon they were all crying with her.

"But ve are /ou," said Caroline. "Here ve are together ... and ve veep ven ve should be laughing. Oh, it makes me happy to see you. Are you goot girls? Do you miss Mamma ... and Papa?"

"We miss you. Mamma," said Amelia, the truthful one.

Caroline pretended not to notice the omission. She thought:

What do they hear of their father? There must be whisperings about him in the King's court.

"We are like charity children," said Anne.

"Charity children?" cried Caroline.

"Yes ... although we have a good mother and we have a father ... we are not with them and that makes us like charity children."

"Ve shall be together soon ... you children and Papa and myself."

"When Mamma, when?" demanded little Caroline.

"Ven it... is permitted."

"I do not like grandfather much," said Amelia.

"He is the King," put in Anne in a shocked voice looking over her shoulder.

Were they being furtive? wondered Caroline. Did they talk together about the King, about the family quarrel? Did their servants whisper gossip to them? 'You must not mention this ... or that...'

It is so bad for them, she thought. Oh, why cannot I bring up my own children in the way I want. It is so cruel. He knows what hurts me most.

"That doesn't make me like him," said Amelia.

"I like Mamma," said young Caroline.

Caroline held her more tightly. "Tell me please ... what do you do all day?"

"Lady Portland is our governess," said Amelia.

"She is kind to you?"

They nodded.

"We walk and we read and we say prayers. And Mr. Handel is going to teach us music."

"You must be goot ... goot ... and learn. And soon ve shall be together."

"Why can't we be now?" Caroline wanted to know.

"Because of Grandpapa and Papa," said Amelia. "They have had a quarrel and it is to punish Mamma."

Oh, what do they hear? wondered Caroline again.

"Mamma is punished because she loves us," said Caroline.

And the Princess was weeping again, straining them to her breast. It was wrong, but for once she could not control her emotions. These were her beloved children and how did she know when she should see them again?

"The Princess has been with my granddaughters! " cried the King. "This is forbidden. Of what use for me to give orders if they are not obeyed? Who took my granddaughters to their mother's apartment?"

Bernstorff pointed out that it was deplorable that His Majesty's wishes had been disregarded but if the people knew that he prevented their mother seeing the children there might be demonstrations against him in the streets. The people were a little placated because the Princess had been allowed to see her sick son; but if they knew someone had been reprimanded for taking her daughters to her there could be trouble.

"There will be trouble while that woman is under this roof. She shall not stay here."

"But the young Prince is still dangerously ill."

"I have said I will not have her here and I mean it."

"Sir..."

"Let the child be removed to Kensington and his mother can go there to be with him."

"I will ask the doctors if he is well enough to be moved. Your Majesty."

"He is to be moved. They say the air at Kensington is good. Let him go there and his mother with him."

"It shall be so, sir."

The doctors came to see the King.

"Your Majesty, the child is too sick to be moved."

"I do not want his mother here."

"He has improved a little since her coming, sir."

"She makes trouble under this roof. I will not have her."

"We do not advise moving the child."

"Nonsense! They tell me the air at Kensington is better than here at St. James's."

"But at this time of year ... the weather being so inclement ... and the child so sick."

"Send him to Kensington or send his mother away." The next day Caroline and her baby left St. James's for Kensington Palace.

The child was dying. Caroline knew and so did the Prince who had joined her at Kensington.

They sat on either side of the small cradle and wept; and while they watched that small frail body seized by convulsions they were filled with a great hatred for the man whom they believed was responsible.

Henrietta who had accompanied them to Kensington came and stood at some little distance from the cradle. She knew before they did that the child was dead.

Eventually Caroline rose and went quietly from the apartment.

I shall hate him as long as we both live, she thought.

And when she rode back to Albemarle Street and the crowds were silent in their sympathy she felt a little comfort because she knew that they too hated the man who was their King.